Deleterious
by Deklats Desserts
Summary: One hurt begets another.
1. Chapter 1

**The characters are owned by Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**To my beta, without whom I literally wouldn't be here to write. When everyone else had turned away, you were there to pick me up and push me back onto the proper path: trusting me, helping me, supporting me when nobody else would: my best friend, my only true friend. I owe you everything.**

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Rage. Uncontrolled, unmitigated wrath, like magma stewing beneath the rim of an active volcano, causing her to shudder like the earthquakes preceding a long-awaited eruption. She was a kettle, and sooner or later, the water within her would boil, and she would scream that she'd had enough. Unless there was a way to let out the steam…

But this storm had been too long brewing inside her. She was never one to seek revenge before, but never before had she felt this violated, this betrayed. The ones who had hurt her were going to rue the day they planned their first attack. Truth was usually her weapon of choice, but when lies are the natural language, truth is useless: against this opponent, she needed to use force.

She was going to make them _pay_. She was going to hurt them back. They had no _idea_ who they were messing with.

Her muscles tensed, shuddered. She felt something drip down the inside of her leg…sweat? Or blood? She resisted the urge to finger the liquid and bring it to her lips for an assessment. Now was not the time. She had to fight…

He moved slightly, winced. She narrowed her eyes – then, lightning-speed, drew a fist to his face. She felt the skin give on contact…she'd broken it. He would bleed now. She imagined collecting his blood into a bowl and painting herself with it. War paint, signifying that she was an enemy to be reckoned with.

But to get enough for the decoration, she would need to force it out of him, squeeze it from his skin like her soul had been squeezed from her body…he would writhe in pain under her touch, and she would relish every moment of it…

But first another blow, before he could fight back. With her other fist, she punched him in the stomach, and took satisfaction when he began to buckle. But before he could bend over entirely, she raised her knee between his legs, forcing it into his groin with as much force as she could muster. He doubled over in pain, coughed. As he collapsed, she set a fist to his stomach, and he groaned in pain.

She'd won.

But…not so fast; something wasn't right. Her stomach lurched and her heart raced in anticipation of discovering what she was missing…

A touch, to her shoulder. There was another assailant! She whirled around…not fast enough. A hissing sound, cold metal against the warm skin of her neck, and before she could defend herself, she felt herself crumpling to the ground, her anger heating up inside her even as her muscles relaxed into oblivion. No. _No!_ She couldn't let them _win_! She had saved herself for this fight…it couldn't be over!

She wasn't finished. The fire that burned within her would defend her against their assaults. She felt as if she'd swallowed a live grenade: she would explode and kill them along with her; she might not survive to celebrate her victory, but they would not be able to attack anyone else again.

As she drifted out of consciousness, she was vaguely aware of the first offender rising from the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. _Good: a coward, crybaby. Can't even take a couple of punches. When I wake up, I will be able to hurt him again...and this time, I will be ready for the other…_

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"Ouch," cried Chakotay, cringing as the doctor brushed a holographic hand across his tender wound.

The hologram raised an eyebrow. "She got you good this time, didn't she?" He didn't give the human time to reply. "No matter; we'll have you fixed up in no time."

Mutely, the elderly man nodded. If only it were so easy to fix her…

As the doctor dabbed at the remaining blood on his patient's cheek, he lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "How's she doing?"

Grey hair ruffled atop the head that shook from side to side. "Not well. I wish I knew what she was so angry about."

Photonic lips stretched into an enigmatic half-smile. "I suspect, Captain, that she is as puzzled as you are."

He hastily wiped a tear from his cheek. "I don't know that she's puzzled," he assessed. "It seems sometimes that she isn't thinking at all; she's operating entirely on instinct, like a wounded animal."

The doctor nodded. "That would be consistent with the bioreadings I've been receiving."

"They're keeping you informed?" asked Chakotay incredulously.

Frowning slightly, the hologram paused before replying. "Not exactly. But since my program is linked with the Starfleet Medical database, I…"

The captain cut him off. "No need to explain. I'm glad you know."

All was silent for a few moments until the human spoke again. "I miss her."

"We all do," replied the doctor, his program idly accessing distant memories. He assumed the automatic process was the same one that had been initiated frequently lately, during which the equivalent of his subconscious attempted to make sense of the situation, try to find the trigger that shot his friend and colleague into the dark world of her delirium, seemingly never to return. It had occupied much of his random access memory of late, and, disturbingly, he found himself more and more frequently having to consciously override the processes in order to be able to perform his duties. As of yet, no obvious clues had been found, and he was beginning to suspect the cause of her condition was something of which he had never been aware. Frustrating, yes, but he was determined to solve this mystery, even if it was too late for her to heal. Just because he wasn't her primary physician any longer didn't mean he couldn't still be there for her as so many times she'd been there for him.

Not to mention his official patient, who seemed, more than anyone, to be suffering with an inability to accept her deterioration as a permanent condition. The hologram had long ago given up attempting to understand the relationship between these two; what he knew for certain was that they were dearer to each other than anyone else he'd ever known, and if there was one chance in a million that he could find a way to bring her back to the captain, he'd do it in a nanosecond. Whatever it took…even if it required ending his program permanently…

The doctor gazed sympathetically at his patient. "Just hang in there; we'll figure this out."

As the hologram walked away, Chakotay muttered to himself. "Yes, but before or after she ends up killing herself…or me?"


	2. Chapter 2

**The characters are owned by Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Again, many many thanks to my totally amazing beta. Anything you like is probably due to her. I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful person to help me with writing and everything else. Also, thank you immensely to those who have been reviewing this story and my others. It truly touches me that you actually want to read my stuff, and even more that you're willing to leave me a note about it. You guys rock!**

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Wrinkled lids fluttered open to reveal watery blue pools of visible fatigue. Chakotay's hand brushed against her cheek, wiping away a tear as it began to fall.

"Wha…where?" asked the patient meekly.

The captain smiled sadly. "You're at Starfleet Medical," he replied. "You're very sick. They just changed your medication; how do you feel?"

She seemed to contemplate the question deeply before she replied. "Tired," however, was her only answer.

He nodded. The next question had to be asked, though he dreaded her reply. "Do you know who I am?"

She squinted slightly, seemed confused. His heart fell. She didn't remember him…

"Chakotay," she spoke, and he sighed at the sound of his name coming from her lips. "How could I not…? You were…" Before she could finish her thought, she began to cough.

"It's okay," he told her, his hand moving to her shoulder to steady her as she regained her breath. "It's going to be all right. I'm here." Relief began to fill him as he realized her reaction to his question was because the answer seemed obvious, though the relief was quickly followed by a wash of worry as he wondered how aware she was of her current state, of the last few months, of what she'd put him through…

She attempted to reach for him but found she could not. Instantly, she began to tremble. "I can't move."

He brushed damp hair from her forehead. "I know. You're restrained."

Her eyes grew wide and another tear escaped. This time he let it fall freely. "Why?" She looked away, wanted to shrink down into the depths of the floor, but there was nowhere to go.

"You were violent," he explained, hoping that the direct approach would put her most at ease. "You hurt me."

"_You hurt me!" cried the child plaintively as the adult attempted to hold her close, to keep her safe from the explosives detonating around them._

"_I'm trying to keep you safe," she tried to explain._

_The child raised her voice. "Help! It hurts!"_

"_Nisey, stop!" she whispered angrily. "You'll get us both killed."_

_The child squirmed, escaped. She tried to follow, rising from her hiding place and racing through the live fire. The smoke obscured the child from view, and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. Another explosion, and she knew she was hit. She fell to the ground, still looking for the little girl through the haze. As her vision swam before her, particulates invaded her lungs, causing her to cough. She looked down, saw blood…her blood. Suddenly, her stomach was in her throat, and she began to gag…_

"No!" he cried as she began to gag. "Doctor!"

It continued as he waited an eternity for the medic to arrive. At long last, he was greeted by a sour face as the sound of the patient's efforts to expel the contents of her stomach tore at his heart.

He looked at the doctor, grief in his eyes. "Do something!"

The doctor frowned. "Like what?"

Chakotay felt more helpless than he had in his entire life as she continued to retch and choke. "I don't know…sedate her?"

He shook his head. "We can't mix sedatives with what she's already taken," he explained. "She's going to have to ride it out this time. I'm sorry." To the captain, the last comment didn't sound the least bit sincere. He suspected the doctor felt this patient was nothing but a burden, and longed for the time when he'd have her off his hands. He shivered, thinking of all the ways that might be likely to happen, and not liking a single one of them.

She continued to heave as tears streamed down her face. The captain squeezed her hand, attempting to reassure her, even as anger rose inside him as he watched her suffer. "She's killing herself!" he accused.

"Oh, please," answered the surly medic. "It's just a panic attack; especially in her weakened state, she'll wear herself out quickly. If she'd eaten, I'd suggest you turn her head on its side to prevent asphyxiation, but…"

"She hasn't eaten?" Chakotay asked incredulously.

"_She hasn't eaten; I promise," the medic told his companion. "We are saving the rations for the other patients, especially the children. It's no use to feed her anyway when she doesn't keep anything down."_

_She wanted to speak, to tell them she was hungry, that she could eat…but they weren't listening. Besides, they were right; the children needed to be cared for first. She bit her lip to keep from groaning as the doctor's rough handling of her broken leg caused pain to shoot through her._

_She affixed a gaze upon the doctor as he set her leg. She attempted to speak, but her throat was dry and her voice barren. With considerable effort, she ran a dehydrated tongue over her lips and forced herself to swallow harshly. Trying again, she managed to choke out one word, a question. "Nisey?"_

_Her only answer was a nasty glare. So the child was dead…because she failed to keep her from the blasts. She wanted to cry, but that was an indulgence she couldn't afford. After all, water was in short supply, and she wasn't the only one injured._

"_We know what you did to her," spat the doctor's companion, and she cringed, cursing herself for her negligence, her failure._

"_I'm sorry," she whispered._

"I'm sorry," the patient mumbled as Chakotay peered at her worriedly.

As she gagged again, the doctor sighed. "We haven't been able to get her to eat in days."

Chakotay blinked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "You didn't ask. Now, if that's all, I do have other patients to attend to."

"Can we at least take off the restraints so she won't feel so trapped?" the captain asked desperately.

The medic looked askance at him, but slowly nodded. "It's your life," he replied. "But if she makes trouble, I'm holding you accountable…"

"That's fine," Chakotay answered quickly. "Please, undo the restraints. I'll take responsibility for her."

"Very well," was the reply as a long finger reached out to type in the code to release the patient.

As the doctor walked away, the captain reached out and pulled her torso towards him, holding her tightly while she convulsed against his chest. He felt his shirt grow damp with her tears, and his heart broke again as he heard her whisper between bouts of heaving, "I don't like being weak."

"I know," he mumbled as his own eyes began to overflow. He thanked the spirits she didn't seem to know how weak she'd been the last few months, and prayed she'd continue to be unaware as her body failed her and her mind slipped away. Finally, her retching turned to quiet sobbing, and he stroked her back as she let out her grief. As promised, she was soon exhausted, and her lids slipped closed against his shirt, her body growing limp in his arms. After a few quiet minutes, he gently laid her back down upon the biobed, then covered her with a blanket. He settled himself at her side, hoping she'd sleep peacefully for a few hours before the nightmares came.


	3. Chapter 3

**The characters and world they live in are owned by Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Bottomless thanks to my beta, whose enormous and continuing effort – including, most importantly, the encouragement of the author – towards the production of this work, cannot go uncredited.**

**Thank you also to the reviewer of Chapter 2, and to all the previous reviewers, as well as those who have activated alerts, for your interest in the story. This is as much for you as it is for me.**

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_Pain. Searing, stinging, all-consuming…and the ache that accompanied it, sending shivers down her spine. Sweat dripped down the side of her forehead. Was she feverish?_

_Effortfully, she sat up; black spots swam in front of her eyes, and she lay back down again, feeling defeated. She was so thirsty…and weak. She attempted to call for a nurse, someone…anyone to bring her water, to alleviate her agony just a bit, and as she opened her mouth, her parched throat unable to make a sound, a feeling of guilt for even trying settled heavily inside her heart._

_Nevertheless, her efforts were noticed, and one of her caretakers made his way to her bedside. He brought a cup to her lips, and relief washed over her as she anticipated the cool liquid trickling into her throat…but the liquid wasn't water. She'd thought herself incapable of feeling any more pain, but as the fluid burned its way down her esophagus, her eyes began to water and she squirmed reflexively, even knowing she had nowhere to go._

_Someone else came, observed her struggle. "She suffers," he stated flatly._

"_Good," replied the other. "There was no comfort for her victims. It is only right there should be none for her."_

_With that, he touched her hand, a new flavor of pain arriving as he pinched the tube attached. She drew a sharp breath as her heart began to pound. So, this was how she was going to die?_

_She struggled to look around, to take stock of her surroundings, to find a possible means of escape…and a small figure scurried in the corner of her vision. It was just a glimpse; she couldn't quite be sure, but the shadow seemed to be in the form of the child she had failed to protect._

_She wriggled intensely, trying her best to turn around, to look again to confirm her sighting, but the figure was gone, and meanwhile several pairs of hands descended upon her, preventing her from moving._

Chakotay held her shoulders tightly, knowing she would hurt herself further if allowed free, but still aching at the necessity, for she had not yet awoken from her nightmare, and he feared his actions would add to the terror of the situation in her dream. If only he'd allowed her doctor to enable the restraints earlier – but, perhaps foolishly, he had hoped his offer of comfort a few hours previously would allow her peace in slumber. However, it appeared he was powerless to chase her demons away – and that, more than anything else, pulled at his heart and forced his throat to constrict as yet another piece of hope for her recovery died inside him.

Suddenly, her eyes opened, but they were unfocused, wild…terrified. He froze, momentarily distracted by the assessment of her emotional state – long enough for her to throw a fist towards his face. He felt his jaw dislocate as she connected solidly, and he couldn't suppress an automatic grunt. Clenching through the pain, he held her tighter, forcefully pinning her arms to the biobed as he nervously awaited the signal that the electronic restraints had been enabled.

"Now," ordered the doctor, finally.

Relieved, the captain pulled back, only then noticing the purple-grey bruises forming on her arms where he had grabbed them. It was too much, all at once: the stinging sensation in his jaw and the realization that he had caused further injury to someone so dear, someone already enduring much more than was her due. His now-free hands moved to cover his face as it crumpled, and he hastily exited the room as tears began to fall down his face. Once in the hallway, he scrambled to find the nearest bench and, finding none nearby, collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor as he began to sob in earnest. A young intern walked past, eyeing him curiously, but too intimidated to stop and ask if he were all right; he didn't so much see as sense the presence of the student, but at the moment, he couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted to.

A great sense of dread washed over him: eroding hope, eroding love, eroding his faith in fate. Surely she didn't deserve this – the pain, foremost, but also the indignity of it all – her once-proud strength turned against her, destroying her own body as well as those who loved her – her most private of needs tended to clinically by people who didn't even know her…and when they delayed, lying helplessly in her own filth, restrained even from moving aside.

What puzzled him most was the seeming indifference of the very doctors assigned to treat her. No, not indifference – it was stronger than that. They actively resisted helping her, as much as they could without violating the Hippocratic Oath. He wondered again why the EMH had been dismissed from the team, and as he thought of his old friend, the hologram himself appeared, standing over him. As the photonic's shadow passed over him, he looked up, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

His companion didn't speak, but merely reached down and pulled the human to his feet, then silently led him to a nearby treatment room, where he sat his patient down upon the biobed. _I can't treat her, but I can at least treat you_, his program assessed. He grabbed a regenerator from the cabinet and gently pulled the captain's hands away from his face so that he could heal the injury.

Chakotay made a valiant attempt to calm himself then, to hold still while the doctor did his work. In response, the doctor smiled sadly; he wanted desperately to offer words of comfort, but there were none. They both knew the prospects were grim; the medication he'd devised was a shot in the dark, and there was only so much research he could do without access to the patient herself.

Finally, when the river of grief marring the captain's countenance had slowed to a mere trickle, the hologram spoke. "I take it the drug didn't work."

The captain shook his head. "It did something," he admitted. "She seemed to know, for a while, who she was, if not her current situation – though she was still terribly frightened. But she didn't try to hurt me – well, until we woke her up."

The doctor peered curiously at his former commanding officer. "I suppose that explains the injury," he noted.

"She's still got a powerful right hook," he explained, "even if she hasn't been eating or sleeping."

At that revelation, the hologram exhibited an expression of mild alarm. "They're not feeding her?!"

"Well," Chakotay clarified, "they said she 's been refusing to eat. It's almost as if she wants to die." Speaking the words out loud made the prospect seem all the more plausible, and he shuddered.

"Wait," the doctor cautioned. "She's obviously got an enormous amount of adrenalin running through her system; it's consistent with the bioreadings I received, as well as her 'powerful right hook.' How did you manage not to dodge that?"

Chakotay peered guiltily at the floor. "I was…distracted," he admitted, neglecting to clarify further. "But what has adrenalin got to do with anything?"

Grimacing slightly, the EMH explained, "Adrenalin triggers the sympathetic nervous system and shuts down the parasympathetic nervous system. It may be that she wants to eat and sleep, but simply cannot. Her body perceives a threat, and she is in constant preparation to fight it or flee; the normalcies of sleep and digestion are left aside for a time when she is out of danger."

"So," the captain mused, "the key to her recovery would be to make her feel safe again?"

The doctor nodded. "Precisely. But we can't do that until we understand the danger she perceives…that is, assuming she has enough awareness of reality to be anticipating a genuine danger. Let's assume, for the moment, that there is something concrete in her mind, a cause of her fear. Do you think you can investigate that?" He paused, noting his patient's lack of immediate reply, then continued, "I know this is hard for you, but it'll be a lot harder if…"

"I know," Chakotay snapped, more harshly than he'd intended. "I'll try. It's just…hard. I wish we could get another doctor, someone who knows more…"

The doctor pursed his lips, wondering how much to reveal to the already-overwhelmed captain. Sighing, he decided that more information would be beneficial. "I did try contacting a brilliant doctor," he admitted, "a former head of Starfleet Medical. She's the CMO of the _Enterprise_."

"Doctor Crusher?" Chakotay asked incredulously. "Why her? And what did she say?"

"Well," explained the hologram, "she's known, in general, to be extremely sympathetic and apolitical, and she's done extensive research on Irumodic Syndrome, a degenerative disease with similar symptoms."

"All right," Chakotay interrupted. "So she's qualified, and might actually be willing to help," _unlike the pricks down the hall_. "Why isn't she here?"

A pregnant pause preceded the doctor's apologetic and baffled reply. "She said – and I am quoting directly – that she didn't take patients who had committed genocide."


	4. Chapter 4

**The characters are owned by Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Thank you once again to my beta, who took time out of her busy schedule to help with this. I'm not always the best person to beta for, and she's amazingly tolerant of my faults, including my lack of subtlety, as one reviewer pointed out in another story. Sometimes being subtle and making a point are mutually exclusive.**

**Also, thank you to the reviewers, whose interest provides the compulsion necessary to continue this story.  
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Chakotay once again stood over the sleeping patient and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't startle as she awoke. When her lids fluttered open, her eyes were only slightly unfocused, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. _The medicine is still working_.

He really didn't want to question her, but it was necessary. Still, her unshed tears melted his heart, and he opted to defer the topic, knowing that, if she were to experience another panic attack, she'd again have to suffer through it. Once without a sedative had been enough for him, and he wasn't even the one retching.

"You're safe," he offered, and she met his gaze. He hoped he would see relief in her eyes, but instead he saw unimaginable pain.

"_Miral is safe," B'Elanna snapped from the doorway. "Away from you."_

"_What?" she questioned, confused. "What did I…?"_

"_You know, I've kept this to myself," the half-Klingon continued, "but I never liked you. From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were bad news." Her voice softened for a moment as she added, "At one time, you almost had me convinced that we could be friends. Honestly, I only tolerated you for Chakotay's sake, and I plan to tell him what I know now. Now please, get off my property. If you come again, I will call security and have you hauled away for trespassing."_

"_But I'm…we're…they wouldn't," she tried._

_B'Elanna snorted. "They won't care who you are, especially once they hear about what you did. Really, how could you? Poor Naomi. I feel so bad for Sam, having to patch her up after you had your way with her."_

"_I…what?" was the baffled reply as her heart began to race and her stomach lurched. Her fingers tingled and her breath came rapidly. _No_, she thought_, not now. Not here.

_Just then, Paris stepped forward and grabbed his wife around the waist. "Come on," he told her gently, "it's enough."_

_Anger flaming in her eyes, B'Elanna turned to him and replied, "It's not enough! It's never enough! Not until she admits what she did and pays for it!"_

_Just then, their uninvited guest began to retch. "I'm sorry," she offered meekly between heaves. "I'll go," she mumbled through her fingers, as she'd raised her hand to her face instinctively. Humiliated, she quickly walked away._

"_Something's wrong. Should I go help her?" came Tom's voice behind her._

_He was answered with a definitive growl and a threat, "Not if you want to stay married to me."_

As Chakotay saw her slipping away into her nightmarish dreamland, he desperately searched for something to pull her back. It was then he remembered the gift he'd been waiting to give her. Well…now was as good a time as any.

He pulled a small box out of his pocket, then gently opened it beside her. Holding it with one hand, he used the other to turn her chin towards him so that she would see. "Marry me," he said, then held his breath as he awaited her reply.

She seemed stunned, speechless – but at least no longer on the verge of another panic attack. Nervous at her lack of response, he continued to speak. "I know it's not a diamond…or even gold. Oh hell, it's synthetic rubber. But anything else…they wouldn't allow. You understand? It'd be dangerous…I – ."

He was gratified when she interrupted him. "I'm dying," she assessed grimly.

His eyes widened with surprise. That had _not_ been the reaction he'd expected. How to respond to that?

She explained for him. "You wouldn't ask me that unless you're joking or my prognosis is very bad. And I'm guessing, given my surroundings, that it's not a joke."

His jaw dropped. It was more than she'd said to him at once in years, and yet it sunk his heart more than anything that had ever emanated from her lips and reached his ears. After a stunned pause, he decided, once again, to be honest. "They don't know what's wrong with you," he admitted. "We don't even know how long this medication will work."

"Well," she answered, "assuming they're even trying to find a cure – which I doubt, considering how they kicked my doctor out – that's still pretty grim. Leave it, Chakotay. You don't want to take responsibility for me. Don't do it out of some sense of lingering loyalty or debt. Just let me die. Get on with your life."

When he'd recovered from his shock, he sadly closed the box and put it back in his pocket. "You remember the doctor leaving?"

She nodded. "I think I remember everything. Oh God…I hurt you, didn't I?"

He noticed the signs of impending panic returning, and quickly attempted to defuse the situation. "I'm fine; you can see. The doctor fixed me up."

It was the wrong thing to say. Again, she began to retch. He called for the doctor, even as she squirmed to free herself from her restraints. _Don't do this to me_, he thought bitterly.

By the time the doctor arrived, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and he'd given up his frantic efforts to wipe them away as they fell. Instead, he stroked the grey hair away from her forehead and cooed at her, though it seemed to have no effect. "Undo the restraints!" he ordered. After a disapproving cock of his eyebrow, the medic lazily made his way to the control panel and typed in the code, clearly unhappy with being told what to do, but also no longer wanting to argue about this particular patient. With any luck, soon she'd no longer be his problem.

Chakotay attempted to gather her into his arms, to soothe her as he had last time, but she pushed him away. "Don't," she begged. "Just go. Leave me alone." She heaved, and he resisted her request. She pushed again. "Now! Go away!"

When he continued to refuse, she grew angry and desperate. "No, I won't marry you!" she yelled, "I hate you!"

Hurt and shocked, he dropped her back onto the biobed, then reluctantly slinked away. As he exited the room and the sounds of her attack grew distant, he bit his lip in a valiant effort not to burst into tears before he was safely alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**The characters are owned by Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Thank you again to my beta, who waited for me. Apologies to my readers for the length of time between updates. I write when I can, but I write for you. It is your interest and reviews that keep me going when I am able. A sincere thank you for all the reviews you have left for me to let me know you want more.  


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Chakotay sat on the floor, cradling the open jewelry box and caressing the plastic ring within. As he fingered it, he imagined slipping it onto the finger of his beloved, even as bitter tears, fueled by her rejection, dripped forth from his eyes, a warm rain that somehow had yet to wet the precious object in his hands.

_She couldn't have possibly meant what she said. She doesn't hate me. She's never hated me, and never will. It's not possible…is it?_

He sighed heavily, wondering from where the impetus for such harsh words had emanated. Consultation from his spirit guide had only revealed what he already known – that, like a wounded animal, she was angry, scared, and fighting instinctively for her survival. But who had so wounded her? Was it, perhaps, all in her mind, a hallucination brought on by the disease?

Somehow, he didn't think so. He'd known her to hallucinate before…long ago, when they were still on _Voyager_. Her hallucinations, while often frightening, would never have victimized her in that way. It simply wasn't something she would consider, consciously or subconsciously…unless it had actually happened.

_Oh gods, has she been attacked? Had she been violated before I even met her? Could such a strong, independent woman possibly fall victim to such a savage crime? Could she have hidden that from me for all these years?_

He didn't want to believe it, but he couldn't think of another explanation.

Just then, his communicator beeped. The voice on the other end was curt, almost smug. "You might want to know, Captain, that our patient is dead."

Chakotay's breath caught in his throat. _No…it's not possible. She can't…oh spirits…_

"Acknowledged," he croaked, before rising hastily, the velvet box in his hand falling, forgotten, onto the floor. He ran towards her room.

He wanted to delay, to deny what he had heard, to chalk it up to a bad dream. He'd fallen asleep, and the EMH would come to wake him up any moment.

But precious moments passed and nobody appeared to rouse him from his slumber. Curiosity and urgency boiled up within him and pressed him to open the door, to enter, to witness forthwith the horror inside the sterile room.

The sight before him confirmed the ugly words transmitted to him minutes earlier. There she lay, more peaceful than he had seen her in years…possibly ever. He ran to her side. She was pale…so pale. White, almost…as a ghost. And, like a ghost, she haunted him…

He couldn't think. He couldn't allow this to be real. His mouth opened, but barely a squeak emanated from his throat. Finally, he found his voice. "What…happened?"

"She committed suicide," answered the doctor coldly. "We had her unrestrained, at your request, and she replicated cyanide and ingested it. It's for the best."

_For the best? You've got to be kidding! Of course she was suffering, but there was still hope, and even she knew that! She would never take her own life…no matter what…_

…_unless she harbored some sort of valuable secret they would be able to somehow extract without her permission if she lived. However, if this were the case, why hadn't they tried before? Was her dementia preventing them from uncovering what lay dormant in her mind? Upon the discovery of an effective medicine, were they finally able to find out what they needed to know? Did she realize this, and take her own life at the first opportunity so as to prevent them from pursuing what they sought?_

_Who the heck was she protecting, then? Did it have something to do with the genocide for which she was rumored to be responsible?_

Tears flowed freely down his face as he realized he might never know…would never be able to help her. If he'd known, he would have…

…_done what, exactly? Protected her? She didn't allow you to protect her even when she was sane. She insisted upon putting herself in danger, time and again, despite your every objection. More than once, you offered to share her burdens, and she refused. She was so stubborn…had her recklessness actually resulted in the mass extermination of a sentient people? Was that the secret she had died to protect? Was there someone else involved, someone who had not yet been accused?_

The doctor looked at him sadly, pity in his eyes. "Would you like some time alone with her?" he asked, and the offer took the captain by surprise. _Why would they offer me this kindness, now?_

He nodded mutely, not even considering the possibility of a trap. He was no threat to them, and neither was the dead body on the table. When the doctors had exited the room, he attempted to clear his head.

_What would she do, if it were I lying in repose before her eyes?_

The answer came to him quickly. _She wouldn't give up on me…and I can't give up on her_.

Immediately, he tapped his communicator, requesting a secure channel.

"Doctor here," he heard.

"She's dead," he managed to reply. "Cyanide poisoning. Is there anything we can do? Can you revive her?"

Seconds later he felt the tingling of a transporter beam, and found himself in a grassy field, the body of his beloved on the ground at his feet. Across from him knelt the holographic doctor, who began scanning the body and pressing hyposprays against her neck.

Chakotay lowered himself to the doctor's level, careful not to interfere. He reached out a hand and brushed it across her forehead. The doctors had kept her hair short these last few months, and he missed the way it used to fall across her shoulders, gracefully framing her timeless beauty.

As he worked, the doctor issued a word of warning. "Please, Captain, don't get your hopes up. She'd been dead several minutes, at least, before you called me. Even if we can revive her, there may be too much brain damage. She may never speak again."

Chakotay nodded. "Thank you for trying," he acknowledged. "She wouldn't give up on one of us."

"Indeed," answered the photonic, as his program accessed memories of the countless times in which she had aided him, often at her own expense. She'd been at his side during much of his growth process from medical program to certified sentient being. He owed it to her not to let her expire without a fight.

Unbidden, the captain's most fearful thought emanated forth from his mind and exited through his lips. "Do you think it's possible she killed herself?" he asked.

The doctor frowned but did not pause in his ministrations. "Of course it is possible, but given the behavior of her doctors of late, it's more likely they assassinated her and made it look like suicide."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Chakotay responded. "Yes, of course. That makes more sense. The replicators in hospitals don't usually make things like cyanide, do they?"

"Well, actually," the doctor answered, "there are medical uses for cyanide, so in fact, hospital replicators would be able to produce it. But, most likely, not in a private room. Of course, our patient was knowledgeable enough to modify a replicator to produce pretty much anything, if it could be replicated at all."

"Of course she was," the captain mumbled. _Always too smart for her own good, always second-guessing everyone else and going forward without regard for her own welfare._ Too often she had used her expertise to put herself in danger under the pretense of protecting everyone else. _Is it possible she's had a death wish as long as I've known her?_ _Could she secretly have been hoping to become a tragic hero long ago?_

Chakotay shook his head, as if that would rid him of the disturbing thoughts running through his mind. Nevertheless, again those thoughts took flight as sound into the air. "Maybe we should just let her die in peace," he found himself admitting as he resigned himself to her fate.

Only then did the doctor pause to look up and into his eyes. "Too late, Captain, I've got a pulse and she's breathing. And, as I've taken the Hippocratic Oath, I can do no harm; I must do everything in my power to keep her alive from this point forward, and to aid her recovery."

His heart jumped for joy, and he found himself reaching over the sleeping woman and bringing the photonic doctor into a tight embrace, and awkwardly, the hologram returned the hug. "Thank you," he sobbed, more tears – though now of joy – falling onto the doctor's shoulder.

Then, reluctantly, he released the doctor and placed his hand upon the woman's arm. "Thank you," he addressed her, even though he doubted she could hear or understand his words, "for coming back to me."


	6. Chapter 6

**The characters are owned by Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Thank you again to my amazing beta, and to the thoughtful reviewers who let me know that they were excited about this. I know this isn't the most interesting chapter but I promise I will get to the good part soon.**

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Chakotay gazed down upon the sleeping woman, marveling at the utter lack of tension marring her graceful features. Even while sedated in the hospital, the lines in her face betrayed a deep-seated worry, exacerbated each time she began to dream. Now, she seemed at peace, for the first time in as long as he could remember, yet he wondered how long it would last before the nightmares returned.

It occurred to him that the sun was not progressing across the sky as he might expect, and he wondered whether the time was crawling slowly due to his intense worry for the woman he truly loved. He began looking around, trying to ascertain his whereabouts. He didn't recognize anything in particular around him, but it appeared quite terrestrial.

"Where are we?" he asked his holographic companion, figuring the doctor would know, as he was the one who ordered the transport.

The photonic met his eyes, replying immediately. "We are in the holodeck on _Voyager_. This is a replica of a field near her childhood home. I was hoping she would find it comforting, if…" He paused, pursing his lips, "when she wakes up."

"_Voyager_?" Chakotay asked, surprised. "How did you…?"

"I have my ways," the doctor answered, but the usual smugness was absent from his voice, which was instead tinged with regret, as if he had given up something valuable to procure this secluded haven.

Somehow, Chakotay knew what that was. "Your mobile emitter?" he queried.

The doctor nodded. "At least, here, I don't need it," he reassured the captain. "And we'll be safe. Nobody will look for us on a derelict ship in the middle of a space yard. Besides, I can replicate all the medical equipment I need – even if it's holographic, it'll work here."

"The person who…traded with you…how do you know they're not reporting us as we speak?"

The doctor frowned. "It is someone I trust, someone who cares about her. She will not betray us."

Chakotay was uncertain – why would someone who cared ask for something so vital as collateral? – but he had no ideas for a safer hiding place. And somehow, he felt that being on the ship again, after all these years, would be more comforting to her than her holographic surroundings, though he did wonder whether she'd even be aware of it – he certainly hadn't guessed.

As he looked down once again at the patient's graceful features, he noticed her eyes begin to flutter.

Excitedly, he looked back at the doctor. "I think she's waking up!"

Immediately, the hologram began scanning her. "Yes, Captain, you're right. She's coming around. Now, just because she's awake, she may not be…I guess, what I'm trying to say is, don't get your hopes up…"

"For what?" came a hoarse, weak voice.

Chakotay smiled through a fresh wave of unbidden tears, answering with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

The doctor's response was to press a hypospray to her neck. Chakotay noted how, once, she would have pushed it away, objected to being given drugs she may not need, but now, did not even acknowledge that she'd noticed. He wondered how many times she'd been involuntarily medicated before she'd become inured to having her body manipulated without her consent.

"Where?" she continued, her voice cracking. She whispered her next statement reverently, like a prayer. "It feels…I remember this place."

For a moment, Chakotay squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, savoring the warm feeling of hope rising within his core.

The doctor spoke. "Do you remember what happened?"

The captain glared at the doctor for a moment, warning him to treat carefully.

The patient stared questioningly back at her caregivers. "When?"

Holographic eyes met brown ones, requesting permission to begin investigating.

Chakotay didn't want to risk upsetting her so soon after he'd gotten her back, but understood the need for answers as soon as possible, before they could be caught again, disarmed by lack of knowledge.

"Starfleet Medical," the doctor answered. "You suffered cyanide poisoning."

She shook her head, but did not seem particularly unnerved. "I don't remember. Did I take it?"

Chakotay gulped, taken aback by her directness and her own assumption that she was capable of such an act. Unsure of how to answer, he hesitated, but luckily the doctor answered for him.

"We don't know," he replied honestly. "We were hoping you could tell us."

She shook her head again.

"It's okay," interjected the captain, caressing her arm gently. "You've been through a lot."

That seemed to jog her memory, and alarm briefly darkened her visage. The doctor poised to inject her with another hypospray, but before he could act, she addressed the human at her side. "I'm so sorry…for what I said. I didn't mean it."

"I know," Chakotay replied, even as he breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor eyed him curiously, but Chakotay's answering glare said, in no uncertain terms, _it's irrelevant and none of your business_.

"Moving on," the doctor continued, annoyance evident in his inflection. "We would like to help you, now that we are not hindered by…procedure. It is obvious you have been through a terrible ordeal, but not knowing anything about it, we are powerless to aid in your recovery. You need to tell us everything you know."

Her eyes grew wide and her glance alternated between the two men hunched over her. Then, she changed the subject. "Where are we?"

_So she doesn't know_.

"Near your childhood home," Chakotay answered hastily. "Do you remember playing in this field?"

She replied with a glare. "Perhaps, but I'm sure it hasn't looked like this in decades. Where are we, really?"

The doctor sighed. "On _Voyager_. We're hiding here until we can get some answers, and we need your help."

"Tired," she replied weakly as her eyes drifted closed.

"It's the medicine," the doctor explained apologetically. "It'll keep her from having a panic attack, but it'll also make her drowsy, which is just as well, since she needs all the rest she can get."

"Agreed," Chakotay conceded. "However, perhaps there is something we can find out without her help. Have you had a chance to look into the logs of her most recent missions?"

"Yes, and they were all routine," he replied. "Ever since we got back from the Delta quadrant, they haven't sent her anywhere remotely interesting – I don't know if that's because she refused, or because they didn't want to risk it."

"Sounds boring," Chakotay remarked sadly. "I doubt she was the one who refused. She was never one to turn down a challenge."

The doctor nodded. "I concur. However, the only anomaly I discovered was a two-month gap between her penultimate and ultimate missions. No information was available on that time; I assumed she was on vacation, but it's possible…"

"That the logs were erased?" Chakotay interjected.

"…or that the logs were classified," the doctor finished.

"Well, I may have clearance…or be able to hack into the system," replied the captain. "It's worth a shot."

With that, he called for the arch.


End file.
